


so casually cruel in the name of being honest

by lomldrake



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Gags, Impact Play, M/M, Masochism, Minor Anal Penetration, Pain, Safewords, Sounding, THIS IS NOT HEALTHY BDSM, but it's angst, dead robin: do not eat, his dom would stop if he used it, meaning i mention a vibrator like once, not really tho, ok so tim has a safeword but he doesn't use it but he really should, this is pure angst but if you wanna read it as porn go ahead i'm not stopping you, y'all don't be like tim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28240215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lomldrake/pseuds/lomldrake
Summary: "Colour?" Master asked, voice even.Tim surpressed a wimper and gathered his thoughts enough to let out a small and weak "Green.""Good boy," Master praised him and for a second the cruel and hard edge was gone, as he ran his hair through Tim's hair, thumb brushing away a single tear and he presses a soft kiss to his temble.I can do it, Tim told himself, closing his eyes. If I let him do this he'll be proud of me.-Tim refuses to use his safeword despite not enjoying what is happening, there's no other plot.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	so casually cruel in the name of being honest

**Author's Note:**

> once again, this is not healthy bdsm in any way, it's angst

Tim has a safeword. Green for Go, Yellow for Slow Down, Red for Stop. He knows them by heart, it's the one most doms he sees use, the one he prefers. He knows his dom would also stop the second he used it. But he doesn't want to use it. Doesn't want to give up, to admit he can't take what is happening to him.

He's tied up on a bed, on his knees, spreader bar between his thighs and cuffs on his ankles, heavy chains connecting him to the bed. His arms, spotting similar cuffs that tie him to hooks in the ceiling, pulled up just a little too tight so his arms strain just a little too much. It's how he likes it, how he always has liked it.

There's clamps on his nipples, chains leading to the wall, also just tight enough to pull on the sensetive skin unless he would move his body forward but therefore make the strain on his arms worse. It's heaven. It's hell.

There's a sound deep inside his cock, it's pointy with bumps all over and just the slightest movement of it will have tears building up in his eyes. Even getting it fully inside him took them almost an hour and half a bottle of lube.

He has long forgotten about the buzzing dildo in his ass, it's the smallest of his concerns, even if it does hit his prostate perfectly. He's not even sure if he's hard anymore or if his dick is just upright from the sound inside him. He isn't sure of a lot of things actually.

He has a stick on his mouth, pulled tight by straps, like a gag, except he can still speak. It's just so he can bite down on it, distract from the pain.

Because above all, the position he's put in is just the basis for what the actual main event is. Pain. A lot of it. Just like he asked for.

His legs had been beaten black and blue long before he had been put in this position, he had been hung up by his arms and his dom had used his legs as a punching bag, nothing more, nothing less. It had felt good then. He had enjoyed the rough hits, then pulsing pain every single touch had sent through him, had revelt in knowing that he'll bruise so pretty. 

And then there had been the cane. All over his thighs and ass and back, the insides of his hands. It had been fast but nevertheless painful as ever. And he had still enjoyed it then. And at the end of the day his masochism was just as much sexual as it wasn't. 

But the cane had been good, it had also been the first event of many in the night that would break skin, that would create cuts and marks deep enough for blood to slowly spill out. And his dom had liked it all up, told him he tasted sweet but he'd taste even sweeter if he was so fucked out he wasn't even aware what was happening. And in his head Tim had agreed, but he had already been too far gone to form sentences out loud.

He also remembers a knife, and he knows the cuts to prove it are all over his body, scarily close to his nipples and penis. On his right arm his dom had carved in 'slut' just deep enough to cause blood again and again and on his left arm there had been cuts in zic zac lines carefully placed to not touch each other. They hurt and they burned and Tim would never ask for it to be different.

Everything after that was a blurry mess. He knew he got slapped in the face several times, usually with an open palm, sometimes backhanded. There probably was a punch to his jaw too, and he was sure he had gotten choked until he saw white dots at least two times.

There was also a paddle on his ass and thighs at some point, but he had barely registered it. That was until it hit one of the wounds from the cain so perfectly it broke open and spilled blood all over him again. His dom had liked most of it up before letting some drip on his finger, only to push his fingers into Tim's mouth, making him lick and taste his own blood.

So here he was now. Tied up like this, and as if the position wasn't hurting him enough, his dom was using a Flog on all parts of his body. 

The first hit had been his ass and he had felt like he was dying, the word  _ yellow _ on the tip of his tongue but he knew he could do this, he could be strong, Master always praised him when he took pain without complaining.

With all the power he had left in his body he bit down on the stick in his mouth and promised himself he could do this. He wasn't weak. He wasn't broken this easily.

A second one hit his ass and he let out a scream, unable to hold it back. The pain was way past the pleasure at this point, and he knew it was going to stay like that. He wasn't going to get back to the bliss he had felt at the beginning.  _ But he could do this, he could prove he was worth being a sub, he could handle whatever was given to him _ .

"Colour?" Master asked, voice even. 

Tim surpressed a wimper and gathered his thoughts enough to let out a small and weak "Green."

"Good boy," Master praised him and for a second the cruel and hard edge was gone, as he ran his hair through Tim's hair, thumb brushing away a single tear and he presses a soft kiss to his temble.

_ I can do it, _ Tim told himself, closing his eyes.  _ If I let him do this he'll be proud of me _ .

The next hit was on his stomach and Tim's reflex made him curl forward, only for all his bonds to pull him backward and a scream leaving his lips as every single muscle in his limbs hurt.

"Are you so dumb you forgot you were tied up?" Master laughed out. "Maybe I haven't broken you quite yet, then."

Tim knew he had broken him, that he was far past the line he never even wanted to cross but all he could think was  _ break me more, make me perfect for you, be proud of me _ .

So he endoured another hit to his stomach and again every muscle in his body twitched to move but he pushed himself to stay as he was.

"Better," Master murmured. 

_ Better, he thinks I'm better like this, i wanna be the best for him _ .

And a hit landed on his hips, just next to his dick. If Tim hadn't been broken before he would have been now. It had been the most painful one yet, purely based on the impact and force of it alone. It had also made his dick jump, causing the sound to move and that alone had Tim's body on age again all over. Tim hated nothing more than the burning pressure it was sending throught him, just wanted it to stop, to be all over. But he wanted his master to be proud of him even more.

"You like that, huh?"

He didn't, he hated it, hated every part of it with his entire being.  _ He wants you to like it so you will _ .

He nodded, black hair moving everywhere, framing his face and gracing over the cuts on his body, making them burn in oh so sweet agony.

Tim should have safeworded a long time ago, should have stopped it, should have admitted he was too far gone, too weak to take it.  _ But he'll be so proud if you can do it. _

"Want me to play with the sound a little?" Master asked and Tim had to stop himself from kicking his legs, from screaming no.

"U-up to you, Master," he whispered. "Everything's up to you."

"Good boy," Master replied and Tim felt his chest swell with pride and the stupidest bit of hope he could handle this. 

"I'm going to move the sound just a little bit, ok?" He asked and Tim couldn't reply, couldn't even open his eyes, too afraid he would give himself away.

It wasn't ok, it was so far away from ok he couldn't even explain it and yet he still whispered out "Green".

And then he did open his eyes and Master looked so proud of him, so fond, Tim never wanted to disappoint him ever. He had to pull through with this, had to be as good as he possibly could so Master could have fun and be proud of him.

But then Master touched his dick and he felt like he was set on fire. Every muscle he had went into overdrive, twitching and turning and not being able to stop. 

So Master let go again and took Tim's face in his hands. "It's ok, we don't have to do this if you can't."

Tim's vision was blurry and his ears were ringing but all he could say was "Green, Please, Green, Green" like a broken record. He wanted it all to be over, wanted to curl in a corner and never talk to anyone again. But he didn't want to disappoint his master, wanted to be good for him, wanted to give him reasons to be proud of him, to praise him. Master always looked so sad when Tim didn't listen, so disappointed that he wasn't trained enough yet, Tim could do it, could make his master proud whatever it takes.

Master nodded and his fingers wrapped around the tip of the sound, his other hand going back to his dick and Tim’s body tried to curl in on itself, the pain was too much, had been too much for a while, he knew he couldn’t handle it. His shoulders stung from the rope but before he could think about that too much the hand on his dick was moving, slowly but confidently. The sound inside of him hurt more than anything else he had ever done, and he wasn’t sure if there was any situation where he would enjoy this, maybe this truly was his breaking point now.

“You’re doing so well,” Master whispered and Tim felt another stream of tears fill his eyes.

“I am?”

Master nodded as their eyes met and Tim had to bite down hard on the stick. He didn’t have the energy left in him to scream, his voice was barely there anymore.

“Just a little longer,” Master said, hand moving up and down. “Can you do that? Be good for me now?”

Tim nodded, his head moving faster than he thought. He could do it, he could be good, so good even, Master wpould be so proud of him, would call him a good boy, pet his hair and maybe even kiss him, all he needed to do now was put up with this until Master was satisfied. 

He slowly started pulling the sound out and it burned, Tim was gasping for air, his body aching, his dick painfully hard. At least the sound was coming out now, at least he was almost done. It would all be over soon. He had done it, he had been good.

Master finally got it all the way out and to Tim’S own surprise he was still hard, despite the pain, the suffering he had gone through the last few hours, his body hadn’t quite caught up yet. 

“Such a good boy,” Master whispered wrapping one of his hands around both their dicks, grinding them together, his other hand tangling into Tim’s hair, forcing their eyes to meet.

Tim’s vision was blurry, he couldn’t get his eyes to focus and he had lost track of if he was still crying or if he had pulkled himself together.

_ Good boy. Master thought he was good. He was doing it. _

“Cum for me,” Master instructed, and Tim did. It hurt. A lot. But he did it, he complied and Master rewarded him by stroking him through it, almost immeaditly after cumming himself. 

Everything after that was even more of a blur to Tim, Master had whispered something about getting him cleaned up, had removed the stick from his mouth, had loosened the ties on his arms. 

Tim had passed out. 

When he regained consciouns he was wrapped in a blanket on the bet, head laying on Master’s chest and his hand playing with his hair.

“Master?” he whispered.

“You’re back,” he smiled. “The scene is over, you don’t have to call me that anymore.”

Tim only hummed, his mind was screaming, racing, everything hurt. Why was he still here? Why was Master taking care of him like this? Had he done it? Had he been good enough?

“Was I good?” he whispered.

Master nodded. “You did so well. Did you enjoy it?”

Tim felt his stomach flip but he nodded anyways.

“I’m glad,” Master replied.


End file.
